


The Worthy

by insideabunker



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:32:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insideabunker/pseuds/insideabunker
Summary: Post 316.  Bellamy and Clarke reflect on the nature of life and death just before the radiation storm that will wipe out most of life on earth hits.  Theoretically set at the end of season 4, when humanity must decide who is worthy of survival.Based on a prompt about Clarke telling Bellamy that he is "worth of love."





	

Growing up, Bellamy had never given much thought to death.  After all, it was the inevitable conclusion to every life, and given the innumerable tragedies to be avoided in the interim, a baseless concern.  Life on the ground was a different matter entirely.  The moment his feet had touched solid ground death, and more specifically how to avoid it, had become all Bellamy though about.  There was hardly a moment when his mind wasn’t plagued by waking visions of death, or immediate threats to his life, and the lives of those around him.  Concern over one life, in particular, had come to occupy a position of paramount neuroticism in Bellamy’s mind, and as he gazed at the mane of blonde hair moving through the crowd, he thanked whatever gods might be that, no matter what happened, she would be spared.

 

He ran a hand through his matted, oily hair, scratching at the dirt that lingered there for want of a bath.  “A bath indeed,” he thought to himself.  Such things had become unheard of when the water supply had reached critical contamination levels two months ago, and now drinking even a single sip was a luxury.  In many ways, the lack of water had become the defining feature of life on the ground, as the constant dehydration that had plagued the citizens Arkadia became a powder keg of discontent and hot, hair-trigger tempers that boiled over on a daily basis.  None of that mattered anymore, however.  Soon, the radiation storm would come, wiping away most of existence in its wake, and leaving only the deserving behind to enjoy what remained, if indeed anything did remain.

 

Bellamy watched as Clarke hurriedly ushered a line of people forward, into the shelter that was to be humanity’s last home.  It had taken months of work, and every resource they had at their disposal, but somehow they’d managed to salvage what was left of the Mount Weather bunker, and repair the damn, leaving a functional enough space to provide for no more than a hundred souls.  Bellamy laughed.  “Designated survivors,” they had called them; a handful of sky people and grounders deemed worthy of carrying the human race forward for what little time they could.  Even with the bunker, every calculation projected that their odds of survival would be bleak.  At best, they could last a generation, barring any further disaster.  At worst, the bunker would not hold, and the deserving would perish with the unworthy.

 

At that moment, drowning in the thought of worst case scenarios, Bellamy found himself overwhelmed by a sense of dread.  In spite of everything, the one life he valued above all others might still be lost.  His chest ached, and a lump formed in his throat as thoughts of her death consume him, driving him from his post towards the edge of the woods.  Soon he was running, sprinting away from the maddening crowd as fast as his legs could carry him; not stopping until he’d reached the cliff’s edge, where once the bunker’s antenna had stood.  Finally, he collapsed, his chest heaving as he fought back the sobs that pouring out of him anyway.  

 

Bellamy had never been one to allow the odds of failure to defeat or deter him.  But now, he was caught in a tidal wave of his grief at the thought of what had already been lost, and what remained to lose.  For perhaps the first time in his life, Bellamy realized he felt truly hopeless.  Without knowing why, without a thought to where the impulse came from, Bellamy gathered what little resolve he had left, and pushed himself onto his knees.  He had never believed in anything larger than himself, he had never cared about what might exist beyond his reality, but at that moment, he found himself consumed by a need to plead with the forces that controlled the universe.  He folded his hands in front of his chest, closed his eyes, and bowed his head, waiting for the right words to come to him.  When he finally spoke, the words were whispers that caught in the wind.

 

“Please, let her live.  Please let her be alright.”

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, convinced for a moment that some ethereal force had materialized behind him to answer his prayer.  He turned, flying to his feet as his eyes locked on blonde hair, blue eyes, and skin that, even for want of a bath, seemed soft and clear.

 

Clarke stood behind him, staring at him with a mixture of worry and tenderness.  She stood completely still, her mouth set in a concerned half frown as she considered what she had just seen.  Finally, she spoke.

 

“You ran off.  I was worried.”

 

Startled by the interruption, and embarrassed to have been caught engaging in such an act of desperation, Bellamy took longer than he meant to excuse himself.

 

“I just…”

 

He cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the painful lump that remained lodged there, causing his voice to crack at an uneven register.

 

“I needed some air.”

 

Clarke nodded, smiling at his predictable stoicism as she stepped forward and reached a hand up to his face.  The pad of her thumb ghosted over his cheek, and Bellamy’s eyes fluttered closed as a wave of electricity rolled through his skin.  She was close enough now that he could hear her breathing, hear her sigh as she inched forward and let out a small, sad laugh.

 

“Whatever you asked for, I hope it was something that matters to you.”

 

Eye still closed, Bellamy allowed his hands to brush against the small of her back, their body’s now flush as she leaned into him, wrapping her thin hands around around his waist.  “I asked for the only thing that matters to me.”  He felt her embrace tighten, and despite himself, he responded in kind.  The feeling of her small frame in his arms was something that he craved and despised in equal measure; craved because he loved her more than it was reasonable to love another living thing; hated because, in spite of all his wickedness and wrongdoing, she loved him back.

 

They made their way back to the bunker’s entrance in silence.  Neither one dared to look a the other for fear of losing their resolve and giving voice to feelings, and possibilities that could no longer exist beyond parting words.  By the time they arrived at the bunker’s entrance, it was a matter of minutes rather than hours.  Bellamy resumed his post quietly, nodding at Clarke she gathered the few stragglers that remained outside the steel door, and lead them into the tunnels, promising Bellamy that she would return in a moment.

 

Then, he was alone.  Thunder broke in the distance, and he stared at the dark clouds rolling in, surprised to find himself filled with a sense of peace.  All of the longing and heartache, all of the pain, all of it would be over soon.  Bellamy had never given much thought to death.  It was the inevitable conclusion to every life, but given the innumerable tragedies he had struggled to avoided in the interim, it seemed a welcome relief.  He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the final fight; for the last ounce of pain before he could finally rest.

 

The sound of running feet and muffled sobs brought him back to reality, and a split second later her arms were around him.  Without thinking, Bellamy dropped his weapon on the ground, pulling her to him as tightly as he could, and lifting her up.  He buried his face in the fabric of her jacket, allowing his tears to flow freely, no longer caring about what he should or shouldn’t say to her.  Bellamy would say it all.  He would say it if it were the last thing he did on this earth.

 

“I love you.  I know you already know, but I needed to tell you out loud, just once, even if it doesn’t matter now.”

 

He felt Clarke’s body shuddered in his arms as she fought back her sobs.  She choked on her words as she said them, equally desperate, equally determined to speak the truth before it was too late.

 

“It’s the only thing that matters now.”  She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, inhaling his scent as she fought to say all of the things that she’d been holding back for so long.

 

“I love you so much, Bellamy!”  She shivered she another sob escaped her despite her best efforts.  “I know that you think that you aren’t worthy of being loved, but you’re wrong.  You’ve always been worthy of it.  You didn’t need to give up your place in the bunker to prove that!”

 

She swallowed her, holding him tighter still.  “I’m not leaving you alone, and I’m not going back into that bunker if you won’t come with me.”

 

Bellamy was suddenly feverish with panic.  He put her down immediately, gripping her by her shoulders and staring directly into her eyes.  “Clarke, don’t you dare do that!  Don’t you give up your place in there so that you can die out here with me! Those people in there are depending on you!”

 

“No!”  She looks back at him with a furious kind of determination, her jaw set, her eyes locked on his.

 

Bellamy’s lip quivered as he fought back the urge to break down completely.  “Clarke, I’ve done too many terrible things, made too many mistakes.  Those people were never going to choose me.  They were about to vote me out when I volunteered to stay behind.”  And there it was, the truth.  He had finally spoken it out loud, even if she wasn’t willing to hear it.  “Clarke, they have you, they don’t need me.”

 

“I need you!”  She struggled to say the words as she fought back the tears that were cascading down her face.

 

Bellamy reached out, gently brushing a fresh one away with the pad of his thumb.

 

“They don’t want me.”

 

She folds into him as she spoke, burying herself in his chest and clinging to him for deal life, her words barely audible. “I want you.”

 

The two stood there in silence, holding onto one another for dear life as they continued to cry and rail against each other’s wills.  It was the sound of a forced cough that finally broke them apart, and they turned to see a tall, skinny, boy standing behind them.

 

Jasper Jordan stared at them through sunken eyes that betrayed only exhaustion.  He looked wantonly at his friends, as though he had just witnessed them share something he longed for terribly.  He looked back and forth between Clarke and Bellamy, lost in some deep thought. Finally, he sighed, appearing to have made up his mind about something.  He cleared his throat again and picked Bellamy’s weapon off the ground before speaking.

 

“You know, I’m supposed to be getting Clarke, but now that I’m out here, I have to admit the air is a lot nicer up outside than it is in those tunnels.”

 

Bellamy took a tentative step forward as Jasper threw the gun’s sling over his shoulder, and racked the weapon.  “Jasper, what are you doing?”

 

The skinny boy smiled sadly.  “Bell, take Clarke and get inside.”

 

Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, but Jasper immediately cut him off before he could get a word out.  “I’m not asking, Bellamy.”

 

Bellamy stepped back, blocking Clarke with his body as Jasper raised the weapon and pointed it at his friend.  “Jasper…”

 

“Go on.  I want to be with Maya.”

 

For a moment, none of them moved.  A loud clap of thunder broke overhead, and the first few drops of rain fell, indicating that there were precious few seconds left to spare.  With that, Bellamy nodded, placing his arm on Clarke’s shoulders, and pulling her to his side protectively.  Slowly they made their way toward the entrance of the bunker, the rain falling in earnest just as they crossed into the tunnel.  Bellamy turned, taking a last look at the boy standing in the rain.

 

“Jasper… I don’t know how to thank you.”

 

Jasper nodded.  “Thank me by surviving.”

 

With that, the bunker door closed, and Bellamy wrapped Clarke in his arms as he whispered into the darkness.  “We will.”


End file.
